


Somebody To Carry You

by JustAPassingGlance



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2018-03-22 09:18:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3723505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAPassingGlance/pseuds/JustAPassingGlance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seblaine family vacation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somebody To Carry You

“My feet hurt.” Duncan stared petulantly across the room to where his dad and sister stood, talking excitedly about some antique vase or whatever it was they were looking at.  
  
“I know, sport.” Sebastian murmured sympathetically. “We’ll be done here soon.”  
  
“That’s what you said  _hours_  ago.”  
  
(It had actually only been 20 minutes but Sebastian couldn’t fault his son for the exaggeration. According to the guidebook his husband insisted they drag around with them, it should have only taken them 2 hours to go through the palace. But somehow, five hours later, they were still there.)  
  
Very seriously Duncan turned to him and said, “We’re going to  _die_  here, aren’t we?”  
  
“We might,” he replied with equal gravitas. Stoically Duncan nodded his head in acceptance of his fate.  
  
“Can I at least see the sun one last time?”  
  
“We can probably arrange for that. Why don’t you run over and tell Daddy we’re going to go explore the gardens.”

‘Exploring the gardens’ had been one of the many vacation tricks passed down to him by his sister as their parents spent hours and hours exclaiming over chandeliers and centuries old furniture. The trick was to power walk through the actual gardens, taking in just enough detail that you could convince someone you had actually spent time in them before collapsing somewhere that provided you with the ability to see who was coming in and out without being able to be immediately spotted yourself.

He watched as his son scampered across the room with renewed energy and dutiful passed along the message and smirked as his husband looked over at him with guilty smile that he still found endearing after all these years.

"Daddy says its fine and they’ll be out ‘soon’,” Duncan reported, making liberal use of air quotations. On the return trip to Sebastian his feet had already starting to drag again.

Hand in hand they made their way out of the winding maze of rooms, dodging in and out of tourists with their cameras raised and at the ready, eager to snap as many pictures as their camera’s memory card could hold.

Despite the blazing sun it felt good to be outside. The ceiling in the great hall might have been 15 feet high but even that started to feel claustrophobic after half an hour. Not to mention the fifteen minutes they spent in the pantry, hypothesising over the contrast in diets of the 17thcentury elite and peasantry.  

Spotting the perfect bench to collapse on and wait for his culturally obsessed spouse and daughter, he began to lead the way to it only to realize after about five steps that his son wasn’t following.

“No,” Duncan protested whipping his head back and forth. “Not moving even one step more. No one can make me. Not even Santa.” (It was thanks to Blaine that Duncan was under the impression that Santa Claus possessed the ability to make anything happen.)

“Just a little farther,” Sebastian tried to coax. “Right over there.” He pointed to the deserted bench, anxious that it wouldn’t stay vacant for long. It was just to the side of a tree and in another few minutes it would be perfectly shaded. Already there was a group of German tourists eyeing it from the other side of the fountain.

“No.” Duncan crossed his arms and stubbornly stood his ground.  
  
Sebastian paused for a second in contemplation before stooping down and picking Duncan up and settling him against his hip. He and Blaine had been very adamant about him being too old for such things but even Sebastian’s legs were tired. He could only imagine how bad it had to be for an almost-six year old. “Don’t tell Daddy, ok?” he whispered.

Duncan mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key before wrapping grateful arms around Sebastian’s neck and pressing a quick, messy kiss to his cheek. “I want ice cream,” he said, innocently enough that it could have been a passing comment if not for the devilish glint in his eyes.

The part of his mind that sounded a lot like Blaine was telling him that he shouldn’t be so proud of his son’s grasp on the concepts of blackmail and manipulation. “Single scoop,” he relented. “Or you’ll spoil your appetite.”


End file.
